"If I crashed my scooter into a tree, I would probably survive and surely he'd have to be nice to me if I ended up in hospital ..."

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It's a thought I'd have multiple times a day back when I was still in a relationship with my domestically abusive ex.

I pictured how I'd do it too. Just neatly breaking a limb or two, maybe a small, recoverable head injury. Then I'd play out his turning up at the hospital, suddenly realising he was concerned about my wellbeing ...

And it was true, sort of.

When I finally overdosed one night in high distress during a seemingly never-ending (five-week) abuse episode, I did end up in hospital.

And it did stop him temporarily from abusing me. It was more of a ceasefire than him being "nice". I wept with relief.

Critically, this emergency room visit put our dynamics on full display to the lovely nurses at my local hospital.

These nurses expertly whisked him away to "fill out paperwork" so they could quickly explain I'd soon receive a call from a private number, and to only answer if he wasn't there.

It would be from my local refuge, and they would be urging me to........

© Canberra Times